


cinder

by zimskivojnik



Series: Bucky & Tones [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Summer Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 09:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15860460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimskivojnik/pseuds/zimskivojnik
Summary: Bucky wasn’t a stalker, he was just too observant for his own good and Tony was captivating enough to keep him occupied, an enigma for him to solve.





	cinder

He hadn't expected the man in the silk ankle-length garment to show up as confirmation of Steve's story, the very one that he’d deemed as believable as an email from a Nigerian prince mere moments ago. T'Challa, as he introduced himself, was in fact an actual prince and the newest addition to their college life for the next two years, citing something about “living a normal life before one packed with royal duties” as his reason for turning up at a mid-tier American school.

It's not like the University of Phoenix wasn't diverse enough for a prince wearing dark purple garments to go by unnoticed anyway, and Sam discovered that their living expenses were now handled by some anonymous sugar daddy ( or just daddy, T'Challa's) so he really had no complaints. Plus, the guy was hilarious with his dry humor and Steve seemed to like him a little more than everyone else, which was always good news.

This was just the beginning of a rather eventful year.

~

Bucky wasn't keen on going back to New York over the summer, not when the wound of losing his parents ached at the mere thought of it, and Steve wasn't his best friend for no reason.

That's how he ended up on the patio of a familiar house, being squeezed to death by Sarah all while being subjected to a tirade of motherly concerns. Steve's family home always smelled faintly of cinnamon and the quinces Sarah plucked from that tree they'd strapped their swing to when they were kids. He even had his own room in the house, aired out and colored in pale yellow that hurt with familiarity. Tybee Island, Georgia would do wonders to his pale complexion, his inner cold not so much.

It would take a lot more than a few sunny months to thaw his iced-over eyes.

Xx

Steve's neighbors were mostly wealthy stock brokers or retired actors, their kids almost all Bucky's and Steve's age, which made for almost daily summer parties in large beach houses while the adults were too busy with expensive cruises or private islands to complain about the noise.

There were Natasha and Clint, step-siblings and heirs to both a large record studio and a worryingly high alcohol tolerance for average twenty-year-olds. The girl, a beautiful redhead, was Steve's first girlfriend and a revelation that he was _that_ guy who couldn't be hated even by his exes when Bucky first met him. Clint was definitely the weirder one out of that duo, climbing every surface possible and obsessed with sitting in high places when given a slight chance, but he matched Bucky in darts and had a great sense of humor so Bucky didn't mind seeing him around. Bruce, an otherwise shy kid and a biology major who spent half his free time in the woods near campus had hosted majority of the parties, turning into a party animal when existential dread of college was put off for a few months. Thor was a soccer player and a definite reincarnation of some Greek god. Unlike typical jocks, he was actually smart and a sweetheart with almost as high of an alcohol tolerance as his little sister, Brunhilde, who seemed to spend all her time at all of their parties flirting with Nat and neck-deep in a bottle of Jack. T'Challa was staying at his uncle's place not too far from the neighborhood. His nephew Eric was crazy good at soccer, and Steve was happy to have someone to counter Bucky on his own otherwise pathetic team, so as a whole the two friends fit in well with the group of borderline alcoholic students.

Steve was friends with all of them because of course he would be, and the alcohol was good enough for Bucky to tolerate them. 

Lastly, he met Rhodey, an MIT student with the personality and poise of a trained marine, and through him Tony, at the third party of the summer. 

Nothing prior to the moment he laid eyes on the brunet could have prepared him for that moment, as if a million burning suns had coursed through his barren soul and left him with warmth and a summer breeze blooming in his chest when the guy smiled at someone calling for him.

Rhodey didn't comment on his flabbergasted expression, only chuckled and dragged Bucky out for some fresh air. The cold wind was soothing on his hot skin and helped ground him, and only minutes later was he able to regain control over his hands squeezed around the balcony railing.

“Who was that?”, he asked, surprised at his own grovely voice.

A flash of confusion that he thought he heard in Rhodey's voice matched the one Bucky saw on his face when he finally looked up.

“You don't know?”

He tried to recall who Tony reminded him of, but only Disney princes came to mind and he wasn't about to embarrass himself further in front of Rhodes.

„This is even better than I thought,“ he mumbled, before leading Bucky back towards what was now a party in full swing. Steve gave him a weird look when they went past him but was soon distracted by T'Challa's first time doing a keg stand. Bucky was inordinately grateful for his lack of scrutiny, because he felt still too unsteady to speak coherently and Steve would’ve seen right through him. They found Tony downstairs, encircled by a dozen people that laughed at some story he was telling them, red cup clutched in hand. He noticed Rhodey and headed towards them, cocking his head when he saw Bucky standing behind him.

„What did I tell you about indulging the crowd?“ Rhodey asked, voice so soft that Bucky barely heard him despite standing right next to him now.

He looked a bit sheepish, something akin to hurt flashing in his eyes before they went back to glowing again.

„What did I tell you about your bad boy kink?“

Bucky snorted at that, and Tony shot him a smile that made his knees buckle a little and his throat dry. Rhodey only rolled his eyes, giving Bucky a parting tap on his back before disappearing into the crowd.

„I'm Tony Stark, and you?“

„A bit overwhelmed,“ and Tony laughed, a bright sound hitting Bucky's ears despite the blaring music.

He motioned for Tony to follow him out, grabbing a bottle of Jaeger on his way to the bench he saw earlier in the backyard. He didn't talk much, only took turns in sipping at the whiskey and openly staring at the younger man who babbled about some prank he and Rhodey pulled on their professors. His skin looked ethereal in the moonlight, voice smooth and unfaltering like the flow on the fountain sprinklers near them, and Bucky found himself entranced by it all. He did ask Tony about the crowd-indulging thing, and felt the boy withdraw a little before changing the topic pointedly. He talked about gala events and tropical islands, trying to sell some image to Bucky that he couldn't quite match with soft auburn eyes and the shake of his left hand. A few times it looked like he was about to answer some of Bucky's more hard-hitting questions, but he always caught himself and steered the conversation to something skin-deep and far from Tony's actual skin. He didn't even want to disclose why he was staying at Rhodey's over the summer. It was as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, whatever that shoe may be, and it left Bucky feeling like a chess game was playing behind their generic verbal conversation, one where his opponent was a computer that always kept his two-steps-ahead advantage. He smiled at the realization, and gently stepping away from the game, he flipped the board entirely.

„My parents died only months back, I'm staying with Steve 'cause I don't think I'm ready to go back to a home they're not in anymore, I'm terrified of deep water and I feel like you've been feeding me PR crap this whole evening.“

Bucky snapped his mouth shut, a little shocked at how easy it had been to make himself vulnerable around this guy that he barely knew. Looking at Tony’s softening face, he knew that he’d made the right move.

Tony cocked his head again, shaking his head when Bucky raised his eyebrow. He waited until Bucky continued speaking before he leaned onto him, nestling against his chest in a cloud of the deep sandalwood scent that’ll linger on Bucky’s shirt for days and soft brown locks ruffled by chilly night breeze.

It was hours after he dozed off that Bucky realized why Tony's last name sounded familiar.

Xx

Afternoons in this coastal town meant chilly ocean breeze and hot sunrays beating down on Bucky's neck as he replaced the damaged rooftiles on Stevie's house. The sky was as blue as ever, groups of ciruses scattered across the canvas promising a picturesque sunset in a couple of hours. The weather was perfect for Rhodey's bonfire party and hopefully, tonight he'd finally see Tony again.

Steve was wearing nothing but his periwinkle surfer shorts when he yelled for Bucky to get down from the roof. 

He wore a white tanktop and jade shorts accentuating the healthy tan he was finally sporting, much to Sarah's joy. Letting down his hair was both a nuisance and a delight, letting it be ruffled by both the ocean breeze and Stevie, just like ma used to do. 

God, even here he missed her. 

~

Bucky was just about sulking behind the bar, the brightly colored alcoholic drink his only object of fascination until he heard someone giggle near him.

"I don't think the cocktail likes you back," and he flashed a toothy grin at the boy he last saw over a week ago.

Tony looked rather tiny in an oversized shirt and shorts that hung low on his hipbones. He was clearly tired, dark circles around his burningly bright eyes, bearing what Bucky would much later find out was exhaustion - and not the kind you can sleep off or chase away with ungodly ammounts of caffeine in your bloodstream.

"Jealous you ain't the one getting my attention?"

The blush that rose to Tony's collarbones was paired nicely with the bleeding sunset behind him. Weakened rays hit his soft-looking hair, caressing exposed forearms where Bucky's hand would find itself mere moments after.

Tony stared at him for a long time, eyes flickering from Bucky's bright ones to somewhere behind him, before he broke out in a lopsided grin that knocked all air out of Bucky's lungs.

"Green suits both of us, I guess," he grinned, his hand brushing pointedly against Bucky's shorts. 

"Why did you leave?"

Tony looked solemn now, pulling away to sit in the sand, facing the dying sun. He looked like something you stumble upon in a relics store that brings you back to happier times, like a trinket or a medallion with nostalgia etched in its very creation, his eyes amber and glinting in orange fire that cascaded on his longing face.

Bucky drew him in, arm around bony shoulders breaking the trance as the boy's mouth fell closed again. He snuggled into Bucky's side, now staring at him earnestly, as if he tried solving some puzzle in Bucky's eyes, visible to him alone.

"I didn't want to be there when you woke up," he said after a while, resting his head on Bucky's shoulder. The breeze was ever present, carrying faint whispers of waves and the smell of saltwater - a promise of something alluring and painful in azure depths. 

They sat there a while, only noises being from crashing waves and their friends sat in a circle around the fire, laughing about something Clint was saying with beers in their hands and youth in their eyes.

Bucky picked up a now sleeping Tony, placing him on his lap when he sat in his place near the fire.

"You that boring, Buck? Both times we left you two alone he fell asleep on you," Steve asked, laughter following his teasing and Bucky's raised eyebrow. T'Challa was staring intently at Bucky from where he was sat between Stevie's knees, leaning back against his torzo.

Rhodey and him exchanged looks, and he waited for the laughter to die down before he blurted out a sentence Bucky would think about for months after.

"Tony only falls asleep when he feels safe."

The silence that followed made Bucky avert his eyes from T'Challa, to a sleeping boy with unruly locks that tickled Bucky's neck and the familiar scent of sandalwood that he would recognize anywhere. His mouth formed a small frown, arms crossed on his chest defensively but he was leaning into Bucky's neck as if they did this a million times before. He was entranced by the puffs of breath hitting his bare skin, looking up only when Rhodey cleared his throat.

 

"You two know each other?" Natasha asked, throwing away her cigarette butt in the flames.

"Since we were kids. I always wanted to play with him when they'd come over, but he'd just sit straight near the wall and stare at me while I played with my toys," T'Challa said, something akin to hurt flashing on his face as he glanced at Tony's sleeping form.

"Stuck-up," Clint snorted, earning himself death glares from both Rhodey and the prince.

"Sorry, sorry. It's a joke," Clint rolled his eyes before passing his guitar to Bruce. As they started singing, Bucky's gaze shifted from Tony to the prince again.

He raised his eyebrows in question but T'Challa waved him off with a forced smile before joining in to sing Sheeran.

Tony was surprisingly light on his lap, a warm presence that trembled every so often to remind him he was there as he discussed motorcycles with Thor.

"You have a bike?" Tony asked, face flush against Bucky's chest, still making no effort to move away.

"Yeah. Could take you for a ride if you want."

Tony nodded distractedly, leaving his lap a minute later in favor of taking off his shirt and running towards the ocean where Natasha was swimming, red hair stuck to her equally wet face as she laughed maniacally, holding Clint's head underwater.

Bucky stared at the boy's back as he lept into the waves, disappearing for a while until Natasha was pulled under the surface as well. They reappeared just as Bucky's panic kicked in, breathless laughter merging with the sounds of crashing waves and chords Stevie strummed on his guitar for an audience of one.

"Can you come help me with food?" Rhodey called for him, nodding towards the house.

~ 

Bucky stared at twenty three golden trophies and countless medals on display as Rhodey pulled out marshmallows from the pantry.

"These are all from shooting competitions?"

"Yeah. I got a bonus one for shooting a quarter with my glock from 56 feet away."

"That's.. great."

"If you ever think of hurting Tony, just remember you're much bigger than a quarter."

Bucky almost flinched at his voice alone, an edge to it that reassured him Rhodey was dead serious. He hated being an outsider, treading on the edge of something deeper with Tony and now it felt like walking on a shaky footbridge over a dead drop above sharp rocks waiting for his inevitable fall.

He wasn't sure he was ready to hold Tony the way he needed him to, a fragile figurine of outlandish beauty that he wouldn't forgive himself for breaking. He wasn't sure he was healed enough to care for someone as deeply as Tony deserved, if it would all be worth it once he slips and ends up with glass shards stuck to his hands to hurt everlastingly.

A sight that he managed to induce minutes later with some cheesy joke - damp locks shaking along with Tony's frail frame in earnest laughter, illuminated only by the fire that sparked up their eyes, light dancing on the most beautiful face Bucky had ever seen - had settled his inner discourse. 

He might fall and shatter them both. It would still be worth it because of Tony blushing in bleeding sunsets, Tony's sleeping innocence alike primordial sanctity, Tony's hearty laughter that crinckled his face and radiated like Sun itself, melting any doubt he had about not taking this chance.

"Why are you staring at me, James?"

Teasing, and just enough of a question in Tony's eyes to bring him back to present time, to now, an unrepeatable moment in this night that was alike millions of other nights lived out by different people in different times but never like this, never like them.

"Would be wastin’ my time doing anything else."

The blush reappeared as Tony ducked his head, hugging himself, Bucky's hand a warm presence on the small of his back, a firm touch he leaned into. 

"Oh."

For this moment to last him a lifetime, he'd trade the whole universe.  
~  
Sarah announced one morning at breakfast of jam and toast how she needed to visit her mother at a nursery home nine hours of driving away. Bucky chewed his toast as a way of minding his own business, but he didn’t miss the glint in Steve’s eyes as he realized they’d have the house for themselves for the weekend. 

~

Minutes felt like days for Bucky as he waited for Tony to come out already, glancing occasionally at Rhodey and Steve’s backs as they walked their way towards the beach. 

The sun was hot and beating down on him through a cloudless sky, with warm wind rustling his damp hair. He downed what was left of his iced coke before walking up the spacious driveway to toss it in the trash, when Tony walked out of the house. 

He wore only red shorts and a towel around his neck, a cocktail in each hand and a smile as bright as a supernova, all of it almost distracting enough for Bucky not to notice the dark purple adorning his honeyed eyes, fixated on Bucky’s shirt. Almost. 

“What’s up?” he asked, accepting the drink that Tony offered, not missing the way he flinched out of his dazed state when he saw Bucky's _Stark International_ tshirt. 

“Didn’t take you for a fan of my father,” Tony said with enough light in his voice to convince anyone of nonchalance, though not Bucky and his insane perceptiveness. 

“Oh this? Just making sure you’d be happy to see me take my shirt off” he finished with a wink, slowly heading to the beach. 

One mistery about his enigmatic object of infatuation was solved now, if Tony’s relieved smile was anything to go by (and it was - he’d find later - cause Tony rarely showed his emotions in otherwise tight and trained smiles meant for keeping up the mask that was as much of a birthright as his father’s fortune Bucky now knew he resented.)

~

Sounds of waves crashing against sharp rocks mixed with Tony’s delighted laughter as summer rain urged them ashore. He was rolling down the beach from where Bucky pushed him, and when he stood up and beamed at him from ten feet away, skin covered in wet sand and eyes full of something of which rarity Bucky was aware, he had to look away to stop himself from lunging at the boy and disheveling his hair further as he meshed their lips together. 

~

A note and a ice-cold strawberry slushie was all that Bucky got in exchange for spending the night outside. 

It was a warm Sauturday night, typical for this coastal town he’s grown to love now, far from his mind and deepest regrets that were now drowned by a sweet taste of a strawberry milkshake and laughter that he couldn't stiffle at the words Steve scribbled in jittery anticipation. 

_“his royal highness is coming over, and hopefully there’ll be a valid reason for kicking you out like this. sorry, buck.”_

As if Bucky wasn't expecting this since the very first day, when Stevie’s eyes somehow couldn't stay away from their newest roommate despite having turned on his favorite show’s new episode. (It was funny back then and seemed a lifetime ago despite happening at the beginning of this year. Maybe that’s what Tony did to people. Made a mark in their lives to forever adress to certain periods on their timelines as _before_ and _after_ meeting him. Or maybe it was just Bucky.)

He was standing in front of Rhodey’s house, unsure wheter to accept his invitation from earlier today to come spend the weekend there. 

Rain was never something Bucky minded, or noticed even. Change of weather, wet pavement and the smell of nitrogen bonds torn by thunder, all of it meant little to him, until the very moment he stepped foot into Rhodey’s backyard and his eyes found Tony. 

Large drops of summer rain made Tony’s shirt cling to his small frame and his dark hair look almost black against his face, crinkled in sheer joy. He squealed and laughed as Rhodey chased him, yelling his threats in a voice almost as non-threatening as the fond look on his face that Bucky knew he probably mirrored. 

His bare feet were covered in mud when he ran straight into Bucky’s arms, clinging to him, eyes squeezed shut in mock-terror as he whispered: “Please, protect me.”

And somehow Bucky was just now struck with an epiphany that he’d want nothing more than spend his life doing so. 

Rhodey caught up finally, feigning that he was out of breath although it was clear he didn't even try to end their chase this soon. 

“Tell your security guard that he’s also helping you bake new muffins to replace the ones you stole,” he said in that same voice from earlier, though the deliberately serious warning in his eyes was aimed at Bucky alone. 

“Best part? I wasn’t even hungry,” Tony said once his friend was out of earshot, startling a laugh out of him. 

He stepped back, the sound of rain mixing with his voice when he looked away. 

“I’ll understand if you don’t feel like coming over.”

The “when it’s just the two of us” part was unsaid, yet louder than his actual words to Bucky’s ears. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

Tony shrugged at that, now staring at him with those doey eyes, as unreadable as the first night he saw them. 

It was raining when Tony first barred his skin to him, a mix droplets and fear of betrayal.

“Let’s get you out of the rain, Tony” was the right thing to say then, just as letting it go was the right move, because Tony gave him a barely upturned lips of a smile that settled the world to a balanced state again.

~

“Just in time,” Rhodey said instead of a greeting when Bucky finally went inside. Dressed head to toe in a suit that cost more than Bucky’s rent, keys dangling from his index finger, he stalked across the room and gestured around him. 

“Make yourself at home. Don’t do anything that’ll force me to keep up with my end of the deal. See you in the morning.”

Bucky nodded, absent-mindedly, wondering if Tony was made aware of this babysitting arrangement. He sank into the leather cushions with a frenzy of unidentifiable feelings pooling in his chest, making him close his eyes and lean against the backrest of the sofa. 

“Hi,” came from beside him, and he startled when realizing who said it. 

“Oh. Hey. Tony.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean- yeah. Sorry.” He got up from the armchair, but Bucky knew better than to let him leave. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” he whispered as he pulled Tony by his arm flush against him. He almost gasped when he felt Tony relax momentarily, melting into the touch as if they weren't strangers star-crossed to spend a summer together in an alternate reality where everything that made them up were puzzle pieces fitting perfectly together. 

It was almost scary, how quickly his grief would disappear with Tony in his arms and that damned scent that he’d chase to the end of the world. If he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his infatuation he’d see that Tony was the one helping him, that he was the one breathing easier when a weight in the form of a trembling boy was added to his chest, grounding him in this reality where nothing hurt as much as it should and he somehow stopped feeling so fucking guilty all the time. 

He didn’t find out until later, what it cost to fall asleep so easily. 

_“Princey said it’s cause you trusted me,” he stammered, hoping that somehow he was only seeing things that weren’t there. That Tony would spare him the knowledge, spare him the guilt - but wasn't he doing it all along? Wasn’t it unfair?_

_“That’s not entirely untrue,” came the response after the longest twenty-three seconds of Bucky’s life._

_“Why didn’t you say something?”_

_Tony smiled that broken smile again, eyes a thousand years older than they should’ve looked on a teenager._

_“We both needed to feel useful then, James.”_

_And maybe he shouldn’t have asked, cause he wasn't used to feeling so exposed outside his walls and messed up patterns, revealed so clearly with that one sentence, painting the air blue. Or maybe he’d drown if it was anyone other than Tony to push him into the waves._

 

But Bucky was nothing if not an idiot when it came to Tony, so he selfishly tied him to his neck with an embrace and his chin resting on a mess of brown hair. 

When he woke up around midnight, Tony wasn’t there anymore. 

~

Bucky wasn’t a stalker, he was just too observant for his own good and Tony was captivating enough to keep him occupied, an enigma for him to solve. 

He knew that no one would ever manage to. 

Still, he picked up on just enough to know enough about Tony unmasked to realize he liked him, a lot. 

The shirt incident was a shot in the dark but at least Tony had a sense of humor weird enough to turn it into a good hand. 

“No one ever tried to hit on me by slandering Dad,” he laughed, and it was the only sound Bucky wanted to hear forever. 

“It worked though, didn’t it?” and the mask was in place again and Bucky felt like he’d likely spend the rest of his days prying it off, and be happy about it. 

Tony liked to fall asleep on people he trusted was what T’Challa told him, but Tony didn’t like to be touched when asleep and Bucky made sure to dig his fingers into the sand when it happened this time and an armful of kid genius ended up in his lap, falling asleep to the sound of his voice that he dropped by an octave or two without even noticing. 

He never asked for anything, either. When Bucky thought back to all the time they spent near each other, Tony never said he wanted something, never asked anything to be passed to him at lunch they occasionally ate together, never asked for help when searching for his phone that he lost too often lately.

So Bucky took the initiative to rub sunscreen onto his back with all the good intentions and maybe to satiate his need to just touch him, everywhere, all the time. He’d make sure Tony had the salt and the ketchup before Clint could hoard all of it to go with his four orders of fries. He offered to bring Tony’s laptop for him once, and they were far away from the group enough for Tony to give him his _what the hell_ face.

“What?” 

“If you need something from me, just, ask me, James,” and it felt too wrong on his face, the incredulous expression as if Bucky had just offered him the Moon. 

He didn’t respond, didn’t know how to respond because he was angry now, at whoever made him wary of being treated like a friend. 

Tony didn’t complain after that. Part of the quirk that was actually an issue Bucky would take away from him if he could - but all he was able to do was to notice, to feel around in the dark. 

He was bound to stumble some day. 

 

~

“Why didn’t you answer his calls?” 

Bucky was as shocked as anyone when Steve spat the question out, acid on his tongue to burn Tony, to hurt Tony and no one else. 

Rhodey wasn’t there to put a stop to it, and no one was really prepared to defend Tony because why would they? 

He said nothing at first, and to most of them looked guilty or even cold but to Bucky, he looked nothing but so damn exhausted of taking the blame. 

“I wasn’t trying to hurt him, Steve.”

“Isn’t that what your dad said a week ago when those workers died?” 

Something too similar to horror overcame his previous exhaustion, and Bucky didn’t want to know why Tony ignored him for the past week, not if this was the price. 

“Steven.”

“Oh, don’t worry about him, Princey, I’m sure he can afford to buy himself some new friends, ” Clint said dismissively, and something inside of him broke when Tony paled at the comment. 

T’Challa’s face held nothing but disappointment, and for the first time since they met him, he looked _angry_. 

It didn’t help Bucky’s conscience when he saw Steve that evening, after being at the receiving end of T’Challa’s cold gaze, looking about as miserable and guilty as Bucky felt. 

This wasn’t Stevie’s fight, but he still stood up for Bucky. 

Those sharp rocks were waiting for him readily-- if he could just let himself fall. 

_“is he at yours?”_

He got the response in early evening. 

_“Don’t tell Rhodey about this.”_

This wasn’t Bucky’s fight either, but Tony needed help and if he was quick enough and careless enough with his route to T’Challa’s house--

 

~

“ _Tony_ ,” he let out, breathless from running half a mile to see him. 

“It’s okay,” he said, likely sure of himself that he sounded okay but his hand was shaking again and he accepted the apology that no one ever said. Not to him. 

Because this was Tony, the rich kid, he could have anything he wanted if he just asked, so how could he ask without getting a glare or two at the audacity? Tony, that wasn’t allowed to complain because all that they could hear was a whiny brat being angry because everything wasn’t going his way. Tony, that looked exhausted even now, and God knows what else, because he was trying for a smile instead and it fell flat when Bucky looked at him and saw _him_ for the first time.

And somehow, it was a familiar sight, because maybe Bucky didn't want to admit to himself that he saw all of it back when Tony first smiled at him in that broken way of his. 

 

They stood on the front porch, crackling of thunder registered vaguely in his head as he wished he could just reach out and touch--

but the bridge above a chasm was now right between them and it wouldn't be the step he needed to take. 

God, this should’ve been easier on both of them. 

“I didn’t say anything yet, Tony.”

“You were about to,” he said after a moment, giving Bucky a way around it all, a safe route where only Tony ends up with cuts on his knees. As if that didn't make it the only unusable solution. 

“I wasn’t. Steve shouldn't have said that. Clint is an asshole anyways. And I should’ve said something. I don’t agree with anything they said, I was just-” 

Angry. _Angry, and hurt, and you didn’t want to talk to me, you kept me locked out and I felt like I was drowning again, like when ma was slipping away right next to me and I couldn't break in to save her, to-_

He sighed, deciding that this wouldn’t be the day he ends it all with his hands around Tony’s neck, so he talked. 

“I was sad. You ignored me.”

“I’m sorry, James.”

_How did Tony still end up apologizing?_

“You’re free to go now,” and Bucky's realization came to him in a sudden flood for the second time, and God, Tony looked even smaller now and damned be the death drop underneath them cause Bucky was now holding him flush against his chest, and it was easier to breathe again. 

_Only if you want me to,_ he thought, but that would make it all so much more painful than it already was. 

“You can’t make me leave.”

Truth is, he would be gone the moment Tony said so, but the fingers now digging into Bucky’s arms spoke for him before Tony could, and somehow it was better like this. 

 

~

The two of them ate the brownies Sarah made for Steve to _bring to that sweet boy, and apologize, Steven,_ and it seemed normal enough to go back to the beach the next day, all of them included. 

Clint said he was being an ass, but that sounded as if he said the sky was blue, and his somewhat funny remarks apparently prompted Tony to move on from it all. 

Bucky wondered what would’ve happened if Tony refused to forgive them. 

~

Somehow it was harder this time to pack his clothes and Pasternak’s book he got from Stevie last Christmas, and he didn't want to think how the last time he felt this reluctant to leave a house was when he called it home. 

Rhodey left a week earlier, taking the last of this summer with him, as well as Tony who didn’t look himself, at all. 

They _did_ throw a party before he left, largest one of the summer, that T’Challa’s uncle agreed to have in his beachfront villa cause apparently, every bit of the prince’s life was as great as his royal status. 

~

Everyone was here, dancing and drinking and laughing and there was a lot of people he didn’t know but no one else mattered when Tony was a room away and even more distant than the day they met. 

Bucky didn’t take it all too well and before Sam could comment on his brooding, he found himself on the balcony upstairs with a solo cup and a mess in his head. 

“I didn’t think you’d spend the night here, of all places,” came a rich voice from beside him, the all-knowing smile a confirmation that T’Challa knew something that Bucky would beat himself up over for being an idiot soon enough. 

“With you all?” was the best he could do right now, and T’Challa understood, or maybe Bucky hoped he did. 

“It’s harder than you thought, isn’t it? Talking to him.”

He didn’t specify, and Bucky would realize that days after when he replayed the conversation in his head, wondering if T’Challa did it on purpose. 

Later than that, he knew that it _was_ on purpose, to show Bucky that even then, that pronoun only meant one name to him, and it made it all worse. 

“He’s just like you, though, when he’s himself.”

“Oh? You might be onto something there, James.”

They stood in silence for a while, propped up against the railing as the music from downstairs clashed with sounds of rolling thunder, far away over the sea. 

“But he isn’t, though, is he? You and Steve, the thing you two have, it’s easier on you two. And I know that Steve isn’t the reason,” he concluded, and a nod was all he needed to say out loud the thought he’s been clinging onto since three days ago. 

“I’m not the reason either.”

“I’ll say this only because, James, I really want this to work out for the both of you. Tony and I are similar, yes, in that we both feel like a burden in our emotions and an opportunity to be used, we both have a name to live up to and a world of our own to carry. The difference is, that I have a family to fall back on, so the risks I make don’t affect what I feel responsible for. Tony doesn’t have that.” He finished, suddenly too sad to look at. 

“The risks?” Bucky asked, to ease the dread that rose in his chest, if nothing else, because he _knew_ now and realized he didn’t want to know.

“A family.”

By the time he drank enough to bottle his nerves away, Tony had already left, and nothing really mattered anymore. 

~

“Buck? You alright in there?” 

_No,_ he wanted to say, _I made all the wrong choices and I’m not even the one paying for them_ , but he was tired and it was too late to fix anything now. 

~

The heaviness was back the moment he slipped onto the backseat of T’Challa’s Royce, his bags in the trunk and his knees pressing against the front seat. 

“Can you move your seat?” 

“No.”

Sam did move it, probably noticing that Bucky wasn’t in the mood, or maybe because Steve gave him a disapproving look that Bucky didn't catch, too busy playing with his headphones to do much else. 

_“You alright?”_ Came the message, and he felt guilty at the disappointment that it wasn’t in their new group chat called - ironically - _Sex on the Beach._

He nodded in response to Steve’s message, suddenly inclined to rest his head against the window and drift off, images of Tony coming back the moment he closed his eyes and wished he did what the group chat name suggested. 

~

It was mostly useless, at least for him, being a part of the chat. 

Mostly, it was Natasha talking, Clint live-chatting his exciting trips to the convenience store or the newest animal he adopted, Bruce sending in pics of breathtaking views and Thor’s weird stoner thoughts at 3 a.m.

Mostly, because a month and a half after he left Tybee, Rhodey sent them a picture of a sleeping Tony, hair tousled, his arms resting on the clustered tabletop in front of him, a screwdriver clutched in his left hand. He was wearing a gray hoodie a few sizes too large and something in Bucky’s chest ached to gather him in his arms. After staring at the image Rhodey captioned _“I call this: ”The Stubborn Idiot”_ for seven minutes, he had two realizations. One, Tony was an MIT student, which explained the rants he’d gone into with Bruce when he tried to explain to him that machines were just like his living things. It also explained why the articles he read up on Howard Stark’s son (in a non-stalkerish fashion, or at least he called it that) said that he was a “prodigy” and “light years ahead of his father already”. Two, he was in love with Tony. 

His phone background would remain that picture for the next nine months. 

~

It was almost Christmas, and the jumpers Sarah knitted for them were comforting enough to forget that the exams were at full swing now. 

Bucky turned on the TV as a distraction from his textbook only to find out that Howard and Maria Stark died in a car accident the night before, and T’Challa’s black duffel bag sitting near the door made sense now. 

_“im so sorry, tony. im right here if you want to talk about it.”_

As if Tony would ever take the first step.

_“thank you, james, but i cant. not now.”_

At least he was being honest, Bucky thought and felt sick immediately after, when he realized at what cost. 

~

Christmas break was over by the time T’Challa came back, looking as sad as he had when Bucky asked him to give Tony his Christmas present before he left for the airport.

_“you shouldnt have, james. i like it a lot though. thank you.”_

“It was Dad’s,” he wanted to type, but sent a heart instead, and hoped that the stringy worn-out bracelet would help ground Tony the way it did him. 

~

T’Challa gave him only a book and a tired smile when Bucky finally asked how _he_ was doing.

It was Karenina, and it had “don’t feel sad about me” scribbled on the first page instead of an inscription, and Bucky felt like an idiot for doubting that Tony didn’t care enough to notice him as well. 

~

Steve announced that T’Challa was his boyfriend to no one's surprise, and the groupchat died down again after a few congratulatory messages and Clint’s take on “healthy ways of resolving sexual tension” with the only suggestion on the list being “just fuck already you stoic idiots”. 

Tony was the only one that didn't pitch in. Bucky assumed he was still fearing a corpse, and almost made his thumb bleed when he let his teeth sink into it. 

~

He’d spend another summer at Steve’s, though that was out of question anyways. It’s been nine months of standing still cause no one else made his sky brighter than the small boy with the universe inside his skull and all it’s weight on his shoulders.

~

A familiar driveway was again right there for him to cross, and an even more familiar dread sitting underneath his ribs as he took the first step. Somewhere far behind his eyes, he realized he did that a lot when Tony was in question, and he couldn't bring himself to mind it. 

The music was loud and on any other day he would’ve tried for a bickering fit with Clint, but he was here and it’s been too long and-

“You look awful, James,” was all Tony managed to get out before Bucky lunged at him and barely had time to refrain himself from crushing his small frame entirely with a borderline desperate hug. 

He realized he didn’t have it in him to hold himself back anymore. 

“Let’s get outside, yeah?” Tony said when they broke apart, and Bucky noted sadly, that Tony was too tired to fight back as well. 

~

Day was giving way to a dark night when the sun died in a short burst of warm orange that spilled over the clouds, giving them life in technicolor for a minute or two. 

They were sitting near each other on green poolside chairs with drinks in hand and a heavy silence settled in the small space that kept them apart, now. 

And if Bucky was being honest, he’d say that he was expecting to be the one to break it, to move them both away to a safe distance from any serious and life-changing paths they ought to take if they start speaking their minds once more. 

If Bucky was being honest, he’d admit to both of them that he never expected to earn Tony’s honesty, or trust, or anything that drained the other from the little strength the world spared him after all the years he’d spent carrying it alone. 

If Bucky was being honest, he was more than shocked when Tony’s voice first rippled the warm air around them, as if it was the first time he heard him speak, and it still sounded like he knew it from somewhere, from some time or place now distant and far behind them both. 

“It’s been hell, you know, but I’m used to it,” Tony said in a low voice, picking on one of the loose strings on his bracelet, eyes trained on the clouds that formed far over the sea. It was going to rain later, he noted with half a mind and it was the last thing he managed to think about that night that wasn't Tony. 

A few months back, Bucky was about to go for a run when he overheard something that T’Challa said but didn’t mean to say while lounging on Steve’s body, back in their shared apartment, gaze distant and sad, always sad when talking about Tony. 

“He told me he feels homeless,” and it stopped him in his tracks cause the word resonated with every cell that made up Bucky’s body - that was the word he’s been feeling for and failing to find in his own darkened mind after Winifred passed away. 

He ran an hour longer than usual that day. 

Homeless, and he would’ve said it if he didn’t know that Tony would rather die than confess it like this, out loud even though the young night made a good enough cover for Bucky to confess it to himself. Tony wouldn’t, not now, maybe not ever, when he’s the richest kid on this side of the century with houses all around the world. 

People wouldn’t understand. He would’ve felt guilty. Tony seemed to dread honesty, only when it would be the one to liberate him, for a change. Atlas would’ve been a better name for him but he had done nothing he deserved to be punished for except for just _be_. 

“You don’t have to run, Tony.”

He didn’t know where it came from but it felt fitting to sacrifice a bit of his sanity and self-preservation when this lighthouse that brought him to safety on land needed saving for once. 

Now, those pained eyes, a little sad and watery with still-unshed tears stared through everything Bucky tried to guard himself with, so he let it all go and just kissed him.

It was somehow all he needed now, he could live with only this and still die a happy man, those warm lips moving against his own, bitten and rough and grounding, just like everything about Tony was - a foundation, a promise, a barrier that he used to shield himself from himself and it worked even without either of them knowing. 

And Tony might as well be the second coming of Jesus cause Bucky was ready to worship him, when soft noises emerged from the back of his throat as Bucky deepened the kiss and, God, oh, God, he was perfect and he tasted like strawberries and summer breeze that filled Bucky’s lungs when he pulled away to _breathe_. 

His eyes were dazed now and a little less sorrowful, searching Bucky’s face with searing intensity before he pushed himself up a millenia later and onto Bucky’s lap, outright straddling him, his face a breathtaking happy one for the first time since he laid his eyes on it and as the third song of the summer blazed from the inside of Rhodey’s house to clash with the ocean waves, Tony dipped his head down for another kiss and shadowed the star-filled sky above.

**Author's Note:**

> this wouldve never happened without my beta & kindest person on the face of the earth, [dee.](http://stellaradventures.tumblr.com) props to @stilltakingmetoschool on tumblr for helping me initiate this, too.
> 
>  
> 
> ~ an ode to a vacation with friends from earlier this summer.


End file.
